


Behind the Closet Door

by Amber_Angel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anger, Fear, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, One Shot, goddamn it just please don't read if anger is triggering for you, i dont want anybody to read this and something bad happen but i needed to write this, lots of anger and lots of being scared, lots of anger from an older male, you all know i cant tag for shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:45:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17504507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Angel/pseuds/Amber_Angel
Summary: I don't know what to tell you, a boy gets chased and hides in a closet. I was trying to work on conveying emotion while at the same time distracting myself unsuccessfully. Please, please do not read if angry men are a bad subject for you, or fear, or hiding.





	Behind the Closet Door

**Author's Note:**

> I swear nothing sexual happens in the aftermath of this. It reads like it might but I swear it doesn't. Please don't ask me why I wrote this. 
> 
> (Of course I would come out of my cave to post something like this)
> 
> In case anyone is interested, Wren is a character in an original story I'm working on. I was debating about posting the first chapter, but I posted this instead.

_ Run.  _ His feet slapped the stairs, sole tingling after each embrace of carpet. The doorknob felt icy in his hands and his fingers slipped around it, the panic in his chest ricocheting off his lungs, his breath stalling. There was the unmistakable pound of heavy footfalls on the stairs. Too close, too close for anything less than fear. 

 

The knob turned. He fell into the room, immediately easing the door behind him, futilely hoping to throw the man behind him off his trail, knowing it wouldn’t work. Into the closet, quick. Faster,  _ faster _ . He slipped inside and pressed his back against the door, tears wetting his cheeks, his neck, his heart pounding away in its own remote corner of his chest. 

 

Behind the closet door was safe. It had to be. Two thick slabs of wood between them, and his back to the second. His breath came in short, shuddery gasps but he told himself he was safe. Safe.  _ Safe. Safe behind this door.  _ Clothes hung around him in a tidy disarray, stuffed animals sat soundly in their cubbies, his silent protectors, comforters. He was safe. He was okay.

 

From beyond his reprieve came the squeaky hinge of the door outside as it opened. No locks. The door had no locks. 

 

There was a pause. Sickening silence.

 

A knock.

 

Knock.

 

_ Knock.  _

 

_ Bang.  _ A fist hit the door and he yelped, squeezing his hands to his chest as if he could hold his terrified heart between his fingers as the knob started to  _ turn.  _ There was no lock here.  _ There was no lock here _ . He wasn't safe. He was trapped.

 

His fingers scrabbled for the metal, but holding the knob weakened resistance against the door and only yielded sore fingers. The knob kept turning, the door began to force itself open.

 

His feet dug into the carpet, his nails scratched between the fibres as he sobbed, snatching his fingers away as the door threatened to crush them

 

“No!” he screamed, half a cry, a demand and half a plea for someone, anyone to stop this, to save him.  _ “No!”   _

 

The door didn't listen. The man didn't listen. His stuffed animals remained stagnant in their poses, black eyes watching with a dead helplessness. The carpet burned his feet and the door shoved him aside as it opened.  _ Opened.  _ And the man forced his way inside. 

 

-

 

Years later, Wren had almost forgotten about the closet door. About fast breathing and sweaty palms and hammering fists. 

 

The man was gone.  _ Gone.  _

 

He was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry I wrote this, I'm so sorry I posted it. Read my other stuff, I promise I'm not always this horrible and sad.


End file.
